The winter tear: Falling for the billionaire's deception

chapter 14

Madeline's POV

The click of Lucia’s heels against the stone terrace felt like the countdown to an explosion. She stepped into the moonlight, the diamonds at her throat catching the silver light, looking every bit the high-society queen she was born to be.

Her eyes swept over my emerald gown, lingering just long enough on my face for a cold, mocking smile to pull at her lips. She didn't know who I was—she had never seen my face before tonight—but it took her less than three seconds to look at the way I stood, the lack of family crests on my jewelry, and decide exactly what my worth was.

"Damiano, darling," Lucia purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she completely ignored my presence at first. "The board is looking for you inside. There's a museum acquisition rep who is simply dying to discuss the spring collection."

"They can wait, Lucia," Damiano replied, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth. He didn't shift his stance away from me.

Lucia’s gaze finally snapped to mine, the sweetness evaporating instantly into pure, calculated condescension. She sized me up with a practiced, elitist glare, judging everything from the way my hair fell to the anxious grip I had on the balcony ledge.

"I must say, I’m surprised the security team at the front gate has become so incredibly lax. I didn't realize we were extending VIP invitations to people who look like they belong in the catering kitchen."

My hands clenched into fists against the stone railing. The familiar sting of humiliation burned in my chest, a harsh reminder that no matter how expensive the dress was, people like Lucia could smell the lack of privilege from a mile away.

"She is my guest, Lucia. Watch your mouth," Damiano said. His tone hadn't risen, but it had dropped into a low, dangerous register that made the air feel suddenly heavy.

Lucia let out a sharp, breathless laugh, stepping closer to me, her eyes flashing with venom. "Oh, please. Look at her, Damiano. She’s completely out of her depth. You can put a stranger in a designer gown, but she’s still just a girl playing dress-up.

She doesn't belong here, and she certainly doesn't belong anywhere near a DiGiovanni event. She’s an embarrassment to the room."

"That's enough."

Damiano pushed away from the railing, stepping directly between me and Lucia. His massive frame completely cut off her line of sight to me, shielding me from her glare. The sheer authority radiating off him was suffocating.

"Madeline is here because I personally requested her presence. Her talent is worth more than the entire legacy of half the people sitting in that ballroom," Damiano said, his words cutting through the quiet night like steel blades.

"If you insult her again, or if you make one more comment regarding her background based on your petty assumptions, I will have security escort you out of this gallery. Do I make myself entirely clear, Lucia?"

Lucia blinked, her perfect composure fracturing for a split second as blood rushed to her cheeks. She looked at Damiano, then tried to peer past his shoulder at me, completely stunned that he would publicly humiliate her to defend a complete outsider.

"You're making a mistake," she whispered sharply, her voice trembling with rage.

"I don't make mistakes," Damiano replied coldly. "Go back inside."

With a final, venomous look that promised war, Lucia turned on her heel, the fabric of her dress snapping as she stormed back through the glass doors and disappeared into the crowd.

I stood frozen in the shadows, my heart hammering against my ribs, staring at Damiano’s back as he slowly turned around to face me again.